Free Highlander Undone (Highland Bound Book 5) by Eliza Knight

she was exasperated.
    “Seems they traveled nude.”
    Moira rolled her eyes. “Not funny. I just fainted. Ye showed up on my door with some fantastical story about amnesia, then my sister called, then ye tossed my boyfriend out onto the street. I’m not in the mood for anything else.”
    “I jest not. And I think ’tis safe to say, Dickie is no longer your male friend.”
    “Ugh,” she groaned, pushing to her feet. “Stop it.”
    “I’m entirely serious, lass. They are in jail for being indecent, of all things.”
    “Ohmygod. I can’t deal with this! She probably didn’t even call.” Moira shoved past him. “That was not a nice trick, Rory. I know I haven’t seen ye in a long time, but I expected better.”
    She didn’t believe him, and he didn’t blame her. Rory dropped to his knees, and held his hand over his heart. Moira turned around slowly to stare at him as though he’d grown not one but two extra heads.
    “I swear to God, the almighty, and whatever else ye believe in, Shona needs us and she and her companion need clothes.”
    Moira pursed her lips. Hands on her hips. Several moments lapsed and he was certain she would demand he leave the same way Dickie had, when she finally spoke. “Fine. But if ye’re messing with my head, I’m going to kick your arse back to Grant country.”
    Rory nodded. “A fine deal.”
    “Get changed. As much as I adore your kilt, ye’ll stand out like a sore thumb at Saughton. I still have some of your old clothes.”
    “Ye kept them?”
    “Don’t get sentimental on me. My patience is worn so thin it’s bleeding.”
    He chuckled. “Damn, I’ve missed ye, love.”
    “And stop calling me love !”
    That only made him laugh harder, and she groaned loudly as she stomped all the way upstairs. He waited at the bottom of the staircase, not trying to push his luck, even though he wanted nothing more than to charge up the steps into her bedroom and toss her onto the bed to show her just how much he’d missed her.
    A second later, fabric was flying toward him, as she tossed his clothes down the flight.
    “Get changed!” she ordered.
    “Aye, Madam General.”
    Her groan of irritation left him with a smile as wide as his face. Lord, he loved to tease the woman.
    Rory made quick work of changing out of his clothes and then folded up his plaid and leine shirt together with his sporran. She’d not tossed down any undergarments, and the denim pants were snug against his half rigid cock. He was probably going to walk around with a hard-on for the rest of his time here.
    “Ready?”
    He turned around to see her standing there, a black bag in hand, thick, dark gray hose and a wool dress that came mid-thigh. Her feet were encased in leather boots much like his and her gaze was roving hungrily over him.
    “Never more,” he said, his voice husky. “And always.” Without hesitating, he closed the distance between them, taking note of the hitch in her breath.
    He couldn’t help it. Knew she’d asked him to stop earlier, but the craving in her eyes, the pulsing heat between the two of them, he was helpless to it. And she didn’t move. Didn’t back away. In fact, he could have sworn she leaned forward, inching closer. Before she could push him away, he had to show her how much he missed her, and know how much she missed him in return, prove that she was lying to herself. Prove that he mattered more than the arsehole he’d tossed on his ear.
    In one swoop, his mouth captured hers, one arm circled her back, hauling her up against him and the other hand threaded through her long, wild locks around the base of her skull. He claimed her mouth, demanding her attention, her response, opening her up to him and delving deep. His tongue slid over hers, tasting the mint of her tooth-wash, delighting in the tingle of it on his own tongue.
    Her body was warm and supple pushed against him. Her breasts pert and full, the fabric of her gown not able to hide the hardness of her nipples. He